


variations on a snow theme

by amarena



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 11:30:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13856892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amarena/pseuds/amarena
Summary: (goblin au) after seongwoo has pulled the sword from minhyun's chest, what's left to him is only the stark feeling something's missing and an inexplicable pain that becomes overwhelming whenever he catches the first snow of the year. until...





	variations on a snow theme

**Author's Note:**

> from prompt #4: "goblin au: as soon seongwoo pulls the sword from goblin!minhyun's chest, he disintegrates, says his last words to seongwoo ("i will stay in this place, by your side. i will remain here and go as the rain. i will go as the wind. i will go as the first snow.") and traces of him slowly vanish. seongwoo desperately tries to remember him (but fails, of course). 
> 
> through the years, every first snow, seongwoo feels a little more melancholic than usual, like there's something hitting him firmly in the chest, like he should be remembering something but couldn't. until one winter morning he meets a man with an odd mixture of fondness and desperation in his eyes"
> 
> i used the translation of 향돌's poem called 변이 provided by extraongdinary @ twitter ♡ if you don't know, ong posted a few lines from it on the fancafe before!

The day the goblin died, God was merciful.  
  
“I will stay in this place, by your side. I will remain here and go as the rain. I will go as the wind. I will go as the first snow.”  
  
Hwang Minhyun’s voice echoed as he became part of the night, his last words searing into Seongwoo's flesh. His remnants scattered in the cold winter air, ashes burning out at the edges, and the goblin's soulmate desperately clutched onto his memories and a pen. _You can't forget…_ the way he smiled; the things he taught him; _I love you, ahjussi._  
  
But, at once, his mind felt like a blackboard: what once were crisp, neat memories, just like white words written on black, were wiped away, leaving only a streak of chalk dust behind, a haze where Seongwoo could barely recognize his first love. _You can't forget your other half... his name is... his name…_  
  
Seongwoo blinked. Nothing.  
  
Nothing was left.  
  
That was God's mercy – erasing every trace of the goblin from this world and his loved ones' memories. Like he'd never been there, ripped out of their souls, cleansed from their eyes.  
  
But what Seongwoo felt for Minhyun had been too strong to die like that. A fire put out hastily still has embers, under the smoke and charcoal. And the embers kept burning inside of Seongwoo's heart, not strong enough to give life to flames, but stubborn enough to keep fighting. If his mind couldn't remember, his heart would, because the goblin had been his life when he wasn't living, just surviving. So now Seongwoo had to keep on living with Minhyun somehow surviving inside of him.  
  
That was a kind of magic not even God could've foreseen and like a broken dictionary, mercy translated into torture.

  


*

  


“He must be sad...” Seongwoo mused under his breath, tilting his umbrella to the side just a little, so he could peek at the grey sky without getting drenched. It was raining so hard, it sounded like the fabric above his head was hit by bullets every other second.  
  
“Who is sad?” Daniel inquired, curiously looking at him from his side and Seongwoo widened his eyes, taken aback, only now realizing he had spoken out loud. He felt his cheeks warming up. “Uh, nobody.” He replied in a rush, embarrassed he had said something like that and that the younger had heard him. He didn't even know what he was talking about, it was a natural thought his mind had conjured up and he hadn't managed to stop. It felt like someone must've been really sad for it to rain so hard – it was undeniably a childish thought, yet it made his chest pang.  
  
“I told you there's no need for you to walk me home, hyung. I can just run.” Daniel repeated for what was probably the twentieth time since they had left the cafe where they had their usual weekly date. Seongwoo sighed. “Shush, you don't have an umbrella. You're going to get sick and then your mother will kill you.” Daniel snickered, endearing and childlike as always, and the corners of Seongwoo's lips unwittingly curled up.  
  
It was one of those rare times breathing came more easily, so he took advantage of it and inhaled deeply. He'd been trying not to show the kids just how bad he was feeling, not to bother them with his moods, he'd been trying his best to always smile when he was around them, even after Jinyoung had told him it was of no use – they weren't dumb, they could see it never reached his eyes anymore.  
  
Something inside of him had snapped, since that day last year he had found himself on a rooftop, tears streaming down his face, unintelligible scribbles on his hand. He'd been in a daze and when someone had phoned him, he’d answered but kept sobbing so hard he couldn't talk. He didn't remember who out of his friends went to pick him up, when he was bordering hypothermia and his legs failed to make him stand, but he could never forget the looks on their faces as he fought fever and tears for days. The pain in their eyes as they helped him drink and wash his face, his features bloated and his eyelids so thick that it felt like his eyelashes were made of iron. He'd promised himself that never again he would've made them worry so much.  
  
Yet, there was a softness in Daniel's gaze every time it rested on him when he thought Seongwoo wasn't looking, that it made his stomach churn. He hated that kind of worry the most, especially since he had no reassuring answers to give. _I'll be better soon, it's nothing_ – those were all lies that he'd rather not tell them. He had the feeling his friends believed he was keeping something from them, because nobody cries for days without knowing why. The alternative to Seongwoo keeping secrets was probably scarier, it meant severe depression or his mental health crumbling altogether, so the young man didn't blame them for rather wanting to believe he didn't feel like sharing what had happened.  
  
Seongwoo would've loved to be a reserved person, rather than a madman too.  
  
“Are you sure it's legal? Firing you because you're not feeling well?”  
“I told you, I was 'underperforming'.”  
“It's a frigging tiny convenience store, what were you even supposed to do? Make more customers magically appear?”  
  
Daniel outright sulked and Seongwoo couldn't help laughing. He knew it as well, that it had been an excuse and probably it really wasn't legal to fire him like that. But he didn't like that job so much, he was going to find another one. Maybe one with less free time, so he would do less thinking altogether.  
  
“Maybe I can go into constructions, I'll get guns bigger than yours.” He flexed his free arm and Daniel blinked before he burst out laughing so loud, the sound echoed in the narrow alley, even louder than the rain crashing on the ground.  
  
“What, you don't believe it can happen?! I'll show you, you cheeky...!” He pretended to land a punch to his stomach and, like the most professional of wrestlers, Daniel folded in half and then wrapped his arms around his middle like he'd been hit by The Hulk. Seongwoo was very satisfied.  
  
The short way left to Daniel's house was filled with more laughter and casual chatter and when they reached the gate, Seongwoo still had his smile on. The younger hesitated as he looked at him, and Ong raised his eyebrows, questioning.  
  
“Sometimes there's still a spark of you, you know. Underneath all that pain, there's still Seongwoo hyung.”  
  
His throat clenched at that and he suddenly felt like crying, hyperaware of how broken he was. Daniel seemed to realize he'd said something wrong, and he opened his mouth again but Seongwoo motioned for him to go inside.  
  
“Go in, you'll catch a cold. I'll call you once I've landed that construction site job and I'm ready to compare our abs, okay?”  
  
It sounded softer than he meant to, but he was proud of himself for holding it together and not sounding like he was about to fall apart. His friend smiled – that affectionate, worried, sweet smile that Seongwoo hated – and waved, and he took that as his cue to turn around and leave. He didn't want to break down in front of him.  
  
He walked for a long time, not heading home, not heading anywhere, just trying to tire himself out until he was too exhausted to hear that blaring scream in the back of his mind, made of frustration and anguish and anger. He only wanted to go back to being Ong Seongwoo, instead of this shadow of him.  
  
He blinked, realizing the sound of rain had changed, and at once, the cacophony in his head hushed. Suddenly, it all became quiet as softly crackling snowflakes landed on his umbrella. Seongwoo tried to breathe in, but it shattered and it felt like his throat was too constricted even for oxygen to make its way in.  
  
“Isn’t it too early in the year for you to come? It’s barely October.” He asked as he halted and dropped his umbrella, looking up, the clouds now white. “Are you here for me? To hug me?” What was he saying? He didn't know, but for once he didn't care either, as he closed his eyes and opened his arms.  
  
The cold snow first landed on his mouth before it started peppering his face, his long eyelashes, his moles. Snowflakes disappeared as soon as they touched his skin and when he felt something warm trickling down his cheeks, Seongwoo lied to himself – it was just ice melting.  
  
While he was there, in the middle of an alley he couldn't even recognize, crying quietly, welcoming the first snow in his arms like a friend, even if he didn't know if it healed him or hurt him more, for the second time that day Seongwoo heard himself saying something he couldn't make sense of.  
  
“Why did you leave me?”

  


*

  


_Seongwoo stretched his arm out of the open window and he wiggled his fingers, excitedly. A snowflake landed right on his palm soon after and his smile grew. “I'm just like the snow.” He heard Minhyun saying and he turned to look at him, the goblin focused on the snow, disappearing on the other's warm skin._  
  
_“How so?” Seongwoo wondered. “You're both pale?” His voice was nothing short of amused. “No. In your touch, we both melt.” He would've liked to tease him for his cheesiness, but his breath was stolen as Minhyun slowly turned to look at him and smiled with a degree of fondness he had never seen before._  
  
_Seongwoo unwittingly curled his hand, so the snowflake his skin had absorbed could never leave, so he could hold onto that moment forever._  
  
  
Seongwoo woke up with a shuddering breath, lost in time and space for a long minute before he assessed he was in his own bed and he blinked sleep away. His hands hurt, dully, and when he tried to move them he realized he was gripping tight onto his covers. He sighed as he let go and sat up, rubbing them against each other to get some warmth and sensibility back. He must've had some weird dream again because his heart wouldn't stop drumming no matter his attempts at slowing down his breathing. Inhale, exhale. And yet that crushing feeling wouldn't go away, like a metal boot stomping his chest.  
  
He dragged himself up and to the kitchen and filled a kettle with milk, the blue flame started with the gas casting a haunting hue to his skin as he placed it on the stove to heat it up. He had no doubt his dark circles would've looked much like that in the morning – a scary mixture of purple and red and blue, like he helplessly fought matches against insomnia every damn night and the thing would always punch him in the eyes and retain victory. He grabbed a mug and he couldn't help staring at it, the glaring emptiness inside. He imagined it a lot like that, what he was feeling – a glaring, polished hole inside of him that somehow didn't bleed but made every day so goddamn cold and painful. Was he missing a piece of himself? Was he missing an organ? Was he missing a part of his brain? Something broke and yet no doctor could tell him what it was. How was it possible to go through so much pain, and be physically sound? Nobody had an answer, so he had stopped asking that question.  
  
He turned the gas off, even knowing the milk was probably only barely lukewarm, and he impatiently poured it in his mug, a sense of relief secretly filling him as the emptiness disappeared, won over by the warm drink. He always hoped it would work also for him one day, that he would drink that milk and his ache would be cured. But even today, as he took the first sip, he realized nothing would get fixed.  
  
He was much like a skeleton: his body hardly held onto anything anymore. He had to force food into his system and then fight against the bile stinging in the back of his throat to keep it in his stomach. Words entered his ears and just as easily they slipped out, barely leaving any trace into his brain. He was always distracted, always somewhere else, to the point his coworkers had stopped trying to talk to him and his friends only kept insisting because they loved him probably more than he deserved. It's not that he wasn't interested – it's just that something so massive was missing, he had no idea how others could not tell. It was like walking around with his chest ripped open, but nobody seeing his bare, beating, pumping heart. _How could they not notice?_  
  
He sighed and he slowly came back to reality, absent-mindedly turning his head towards the kitchen’s window. He saw it – against the yellowish lights of the street lamps, it was falling, beautiful and relentless, that year's first snow.  
  
Seongwoo was stabbed and, once again, his own pain took him aback. He breathed out a grunt at the blow, like it'd been nothing short of physical, nothing short of a cold blade in between his ribs. He clumsily tried to lean onto the counter, but his hand slipped and hit his mug, making it crash onto the floor without him even realizing. Breathless and wide-eyed, he stared at the snowfall wishing he could look away, like it was a bad car accident, while the pool of white on his kitchen's floor lazily enlarged almost mimicking the view outside.  
  
It always came all at once, a raging wave of sorrow, howling in his ears, rattling his veins while it crashed inside his ribcage. He loudly sucked in a breath before pain quickly dragged him underwater again, his heart struggling against the merciless currents, and his feet brought him closer to the window. Seongwoo's palm planted onto the cold glass and he watched outside, the beautiful and cruel snow, vividly aware something was off. Something had been lost. What did he lose? His sanity, that he was sure. But what else? Who else?  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut and he forced himself to breathe, because at times like these he was too overwhelmed for his lungs to know what they were meant to do. He pressed his fingertips harder against the glass, unsure if he wanted to break it or if he wanted something stable to hold onto. Yet the window was slippery and it was a lot like when he tried to grab at that something dwelling in the back of his mind, in some remote corner – he knew it was there, but he never managed to take hold of it.  
  
His hands started hitting hard the flat surface once, twice, slowly at first, then harder, more often, more quickly, and the pain was dull, just an echo reminding him that an Ong Seongwoo still existed, somewhere in that madness. “Please, just make it stop...” He heard himself begging, he didn't know who or what, his ragged breathing leaving foggy traces on the panel. He opened his eyes and swallowed around his dry tongue as he looked at the snowflakes dancing in the night air. He blinked slowly, a tear rolling from the corner of his eye and at once Seongwoo felt a gust of warmth grazing his cheek, like a caress from invisible fingers. It was just a moment, going unnoticed, and he wiped his face in his shirt, realizing only then from the corner of his eye that there was milk all over the floor.  
  
He snorted. No use crying over spilled milk, right? He had the stark feeling someone else would've laughed at his bad joke, but the thought came and go. He started picking up the pieces of his mug and despite the small cuts opening his fingertips, red mingling with white, he found some peace in tidying up, wondering when he'd started liking to do that and why it felt so much like an acquired taste.  
  
When he stood up and hovered the garbage can though, he felt unable to just throw those pieces away: they reminded him too distinctly of himself. He just placed them in the sink and washed his hands in the cold water until he could barely feel his fingers anymore.  
  
Staring at those sharp pieces of ceramic, he could only think of _kintsugi_ , fixing broken pottery with gold. He wondered if, at some point in the future, people would look at him and see the beautiful golden glint of his scars and marvel at his strength, or if he was bound to stay like that, a worthless pile of trash.

  


*

  


Seongwoo’s mug was standing on the tiny library’s counter, proudly shining gold where once there were just cracks. He eventually had it fixed and decided to devote it to another use. He put flowers in it now and kept it next to the shop’s register, so he could always keep an eye on it and remind himself that his wounds could be mended too, one day. With the years, though, it felt like his emptiness just increased and the only thing he could do was improving his acting skills when he claimed he was doing well, so nobody would get worried or ask questions. It never got better, especially when he saw the first snow. That was one of the reasons why he was thankful for that job in that claustrophobic library. It was incredibly small and filled with books to the brim, to the point he could see outside only if he willingly went to the glass door. Piles of books that didn’t fit in the shelves anymore took up so much space that, even if he accidentally looked around, he could only see more books. There was no way snow could ambush him.  
  
It was a library that focused solely on poetry and Seongwoo didn’t mind the dust of second-hand books, when he could read beautiful poems that he wouldn’t have had the chance to discover otherwise. He didn’t manage to land that job at the construction site, that was true, and his abs still were missing and he couldn’t defeat Kang Daniel, but this was really a dream come true for him. It had made getting up in the morning less difficult and distracting himself that much easier, even if some poems about love hit him in unexpected ways, so he always made sure not to read those when there were customers around.  
  
The smell of sulfur hit his nostrils as he lit a match, carefully leading it to the thin candle standing on top of a cake, on the counter. Nobody was around and today was a rainy, humid summer day, so he guessed he wouldn’t see that many people. It was a perfect chance to celebrate his birthday, if there was something to celebrate at all. He did it for his mother, mostly, in memory of the times they’d celebrated it together. “Hi, mom. I’m sorry I’m making you worry.” He bitterly smiled, looking at the small flame swaying with his every breath.  
  
Would things ever get better? Was living like this, living at all? Would he get fixed, like his mug? Where was the artisan who could put his pieces back together, turn him into a precious jewel? If only anybody could help… if only anybody could save him…  
  
Seongwoo hastily blew the flame out, extinguishing those thoughts from his mind as well. Thinking someone might help him could give him hope and hope was tiring – he didn’t have time for that anymore.  
  
When he turned to face the shelves again, he was taken aback.  
  
Standing there was a young man with dark hair, his gaze fixed on Seongwoo.  
  
“Oh- good morning. May... I help you?”  
  
It was weird, because there was a bell at the entrance, so he should’ve noticed him getting in, but Seongwoo was always so distracted that he didn’t make a big deal out of it.  
  
The stranger didn’t reply, he just stood there and simply looked at him, a turtleneck underneath an oversize striped shirt that only made his limbs look even skinnier. He had chapped lips, so dry that they threatened to split and bleed any moment and Seongwoo unwittingly licked his own. Then he made the mistake of looking into his eyes, and he got lost. The stranger was staring at him like he couldn’t see anything else, a wetness in them that made the dark brown glisten. Seongwoo felt something turning in his chest, something forgotten and familiar. He saw in the man’s look the desperation that he’d become accustomed to whenever he looked at his own reflection. Yet there was a spark there, timid yet warm that he couldn’t really give a name to.  
  
“Did you need- oof..!”  
  
Before he could react, he found himself enwrapped into his arms, pressed into his chest and something inside of him completely shattered, to the point he was sure he was still in one piece only thanks to those arms holding him tight.  
  
It was home. Those fingertips into his back, that scent, that warm breath so close that it tickled his neck, like the stranger didn’t need air, but just to breathe him. Electricity ran underneath his skin when the man muttered something for the first time and his heart started racing, unapologetically fast, not caring if the rest of his body couldn’t keep up, if it made his chest hurt, his limbs tremble.  
  
Seongwoo found himself sighing as the hold got even firmer and his eyes fluttered close, that hole in his chest filling with butterflies and shaky breaths, and for the first time in years, he felt like he was floating up, closer to the surface, instead of sinking in dark waters that would one day just swallow him up whole.  
  
It was when he felt wetness on his face that he came back to his senses. He felt inebriated, unstable, and it was astonishing, after feeling nothing at all for so long.  
  
He hurriedly took a step back and wiped his face with his sleeve. When he looked back at the stranger, his features had gone softer, his high cheekbones not looking so intimidating anymore. His eyes crinkled at the corners, Seongwoo noticed, and it was a detail that stabbed him in the chest. “I’m sorry… who are you? Why did you hug me? If this is some kind of joke…” His feelings annoyed him, once again his heart was betraying him and he had no idea what was going on. He was sick and tired of having no power on his own body and reactions anymore, right when he thought he was getting better at faking.  
  
Something flashed in the other man’s gaze and his smile got smaller. He blinked repeatedly, like he was trying to drive away a passing thought that hurt too much.  
  
“You’re safe. That’s what matters.”  
  
He said and it was like fireworks set off in Seongwoo’s nerves when he heard his voice, melodious and clear, warm sparklers crackling and glinting and tingling in the layers between his skin and his spine. He had to blink and let his words settle in, before he realized they made no sense at all.  
  
“What do you mean by that?” He wondered and he spoke more hesitantly than he would’ve liked. This guy seemed a weirdo, it was better to be firm. “Listen, why did you hug me like that--”  
  
It was like the stranger wasn’t listening to him and he reached out, his fingertips grazing Seongwoo’s forehead, tracing the outline of his short bangs.  
  
“You look like a chestnut.”  
  
Seongwoo’s eyes widened as he realized he was being teased. It was true his hair was maybe a little too short, but he thought it fit him just right! “Don’t say that! That’s not true!!” There was a pout in his voice that quickly bled into his expression as well and for a second everything was still, then the stranger burst out laughing. His eyes disappeared into crescents and his lips curled and Seongwoo felt overwhelmed by the beauty of it, his heart soaring until he couldn’t breathe anymore. His expression quickly fell though, and Seongwoo could spot despair in it once again. There were long, long moments of silence and he couldn’t bring himself to speak as the other kept observing him with a fondness that he couldn’t understand. When he parted his lips, Seongwoo found himself anticipating.  
  
“ _Next time we meet again, I’ll be eyes./ And you could be ankles, that’d be enough./ Even then I’d still continue to love you./ You understand, right?_ ”  
  
Seongwoo’s seams simply came undone and his eyes quickly filled with tears. The man’s lips curled into the sweetest smile he had ever seen and his hand cupped his cheek, his thumb lightly brushing against his set of moles.  
  
“I’ll come back tomorrow.” He simply said and, frozen on spot, tears streaming down his face for no reason he could grasp, Ong could just look at him leading for the door and throwing him a look full of warmth, before he left.  
  
Several beats later, Seongwoo willed his body to move, throwing himself towards the door, and, what he had promised himself would never happen anymore, happened again. Snow ambushed him - snow, cold white snow, was falling on August 25th, completely ambushing him.  
  
Seongwoo gaped as he opened the door and he looked down the street, the view of the stranger’s broad shoulders feeling somewhat intimate. How did he know that poem, Variations? It was one of Seongwoo’s all-time favorites.  
  
He was baffled, when he realized how quiet it felt inside of him. The raging sea of sorrow inside of him was overwhelmingly quiet. As his eyes never let go of that man even as his frame got farther and smaller, Seongwoo found himself able to take a deep, fulfilling breath. His lungs filled with oxygen and hope as he emerged from murky waters. He thought back to the stranger’s eyes and found his lighthouse in them.  
  
_You understand, right?_ Yes, Seongwoo thought he understood.


End file.
